Once upon a time, I thought I would become a nun. I was six years old and had a sweet young teacher in first grade – Sister Ethel.
My vocation lasted an hour or so, until I decided being a cowboy would be more fun. We never used the term “cowgirl” back then. Roy Rogers was my new hero, supplanting Sister Ethel. I never told her because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I never told Roy, either. I was kind of shy that way.
Over the ensuing years, my ambitions were many. To name just a few (including the person who inspired them):
That brings me up to about fifth grade. I’d list more but I’m afraid you’ll get bored and skip to the next page.
I still don’t know exactly what I want to be when I grow up. Here are a couple of things I don’t want to be:
Sadly, I probably didn’t have the talent to be a professional synchronized swimmer or any of the other ambitions from my childhood either, but back then, it didn’t matter. I was just sure I could be anything I wanted to be.
Today, if I really could be anything I wanted to be, I think I’d become a folk singer perched on a bar stool in a ski lodge, strumming my guitar and crooning sad love songs to an enraptured audience. I would have long, straight hair down to my waist and wear a burgundy velvet blouse over faded jeans.
Tomorrow, I’ll probably want to be something else.